All in the Banter
by WrittenSins
Summary: After breaking up with Ginny, Harry finds comfort in an unlikely person. Hogwarts Eighth Year. Harry/Draco. Side Neville/Ginny & Ron/Hermione & Dean/Seamus. Rated M for later. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

Summary:

"It's all in the banter, Potter," Draco drawled. "If you can't hold a stimulating conversation with a person, you can't even begin to hope for other things to be stimulating. That goes double for you. I can't imagine after spending nearly your whole life on the edge of death, you'd be very content in a sappy, doe-eyed relationship like Granger and Weasley there. You need someone who can keep you on your toes, make you feel alive."

"You mean someone like you?"

:::

Author's notes: My first Drarry fic! :) Be sure to let me know what you guys think.

* * *

Harry could honestly say he hadn't seen this coming. He knew they were having problems. All of Hogwarts knew they were having problems, their now frequent shouting matches anything, but quiet, but he hadn't thought much of it. Sometimes couples fought. It didn't mean anything. And if he had felt that prickle of unease beneath his skin when they were too alone and too sober, or had noticed the way Neville and Ginny sometimes looked at each other when they thought he wasn't looking, he dismissed it. It was only natural to feel awkward around each other when they had just finished fighting, and Ginny and Neville were bound to be close after spending all of last year together, while he was off destroying horcruxes. On Saturdays, the gang would all get together at the Hog's Head for drinks, and they'd get smashed and spend the night together in a giddy, happy blur. It'd be like old times again and he'd think everything was okay.

But everything wasn't okay.

Everything couldn't be further from okay.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, her voice too quite in the aftermath of their screaming match. "But I can't — I can't do this anymore. I can't keep lying to myself. I can't keep pretending everything is okay."

Harry said nothing. He had no more words to say. His throat burned painfully, but he wasn't sure if it was from screaming himself hoarse moments before or from trying not to cry. Ginny had lost that battle herself, her freckled face blotched and tears slinging to her lashes. It was the sight of her tears that had truly and utterly shattered him, draining all the fight from him, because Ginny didn't cry, ever, but here she was now, crying for him. Because she knew she was breaking his heart, but she wasn't stopping.

"I spent so many years idolizing you and dreaming about us being together — I didn't realize it. I didn't know until..."

Until Neville. The words hung thick in the air, not needing to be said. _Neville_. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not seen it?

"I wanted so badly to be in love with you. I loved the idea of you and then I met you and you were great and amazing, everything I had dreamed of, and I thought that was love, but it wasn't," Ginny continued, voice unsteady and rushed, as if she had thought these words so many times before and couldn't wait any longer to get them out. Harry wished she would go back to screaming at him because this was so much worst, so much more final and real.

"I was letting my childhood fantasies get in the way of the truth and the truth is, I was never in love with you. I love you, but not in that way Harry. I — "

_But I loved you_, Harry wanted to say, wanted to scream at her _I loved you_, but he was beyond words at this point. All he could do was watch as his world fell apart around him. Ginny didn't love him — had never loved him. She was just like everyone else after all, another fan of The Boy Who Lived, not him. It was never him. H couldn't breathe, the world tilting dangerously around him. She plunged on recklessly, nearly shouted it as if, if she didn't get it out right then, she might explode from holding it in so long:

"I'm in love with Neville!"

He barely even registered her leaving, her pained, parting whisper of, "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never meant to hurt you," falling on deaf ears. And then she was gone and Harry was left standing there feeling like someone had just torn out his heart, ripping it to shreds, and stomped all over it.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there before it dawned on him he should move. He numbly headed in the opposite direction that Ginny had gone in, no destination in mind, just a need to move and do something, because he was not going to just stand there and cry like a baby. He turned down the nearest hallway and found himself face to face with none other than Draco Malfoy.

Draco froze, his gray eyes going wide like a deer caught in headlights before he managed to school his expression, and Harry knew, he just knew, Malfoy had heard everything because that was just how his life worked wasn't it? It wasn't enough that he had just had his heartbroken. The universe had to throw Draco Malfoy at him too.

And who better to take out all the wretchedness he felt on? He ignored the traitorous voice in his mind that whispered, _what happened to not dwelling on the past and moving on? What happened to starting anew and to second chances? _

"Eavesdropping, Malfoy?" Harry snarled.

"Hardly, Potter. In case you've forgotten, this is a public hallway, and I was on my way to the library until I found my path blocked by you and the Weaslette," Draco drawled coolly.

It didn't matter that Draco had a point and him and Ginny had been blocking the hall to the library, because Draco was using that infuriating tone of his and he had said Weaslette and that was enough for Harry to grab him roughly and shove him up against the wall.

"I bet you're happy," Harry spat vehemently. "Well, let's have it then. Tell me how much of an idiot I am. Make some kind of wise crack about how I'm the Chosen One nobody ever chooses. Or about how incredibly pathetic I am to have lost to Neville. Well? Come on."

All Harry needed was one insult, one scornful word to justify punching him because suddenly he just wanted hit something so badly right now, but Malfoy gave him nothing. He just stared at him silently, his gray eyes unreadable. After a long, nearly unbearable moment, Draco finally spoke.

"Go ahead, Potter. Hit me."

Harry tensed, his grip on Draco tightening.

"Do it," Draco urged him. "It'll make you feel better, and I've certainly done enough in the past to deserve it. Hit me."

Draco's gray gaze was unwavering and Harry knew he meant it. It wasn't some kind of trick to confuse him or a bluff. He meant it. Instantly, all of Harry's anger was gone. What the hell was he doing? Shame flooded through him, hot and sickening, and he had meant to release Malfoy and apologize, but his body chose that moment to give in to the crippling pain radiating through him. He knees buckled and he all, but collapsed against Draco. His forehead dropped onto the blonde's shoulder and his body went limp against his. The hands that had previously been gripping Draco's robes out of anger now clung to him like he was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Other than the hands that instinctively came up to grip Harry's forearms, Draco went completely still and silent beneath him, the only sound his soft breaths near Harry's ear. After a long moment, he spoke, sounding completely horrified and oddly distraught.

"You better not cry on me, Potter."

"I'm not crying," Harry snapped.

"Good," Draco said, sounding extremely relieved.

A long silence fell between them and as it stretched on, Harry couldn't help, but wonder why Draco hadn't shoved him away yet, or made some kind of insulting remark, or if that pleasant citrus-y scent he was currently breathing in was Draco's shampoo or body-wash. Either way, it really was quite pleasant.

"You know, you're better off," Draco said suddenly, shattering the silence. "Do you really want to be with a girl who used to scribble in her diary about the day she'd be The Girl Of The Boy Who Lived? And used to worship the ground you walked on?"

Draco snorted softly, as if the whole idea of anybody worshiping him was completely ridiculous.

"I bet she even had posters of you on her bedroom wall."

Well, that was a horrifying thought. He was suddenly reminded of a ten year old Ginny tugging on her mom's sleeve on Platform 9¾ and whining, "Oh, mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please..." Or of Ron informing him Ginny had spent a whole summer going on and on about him before she had even knew him. While he was quite certain Ginny had never owned a poster of him, he couldn't help, but feel that was primarily because posters of him hadn't been around during her infatuation stage. Or at least, he desperately hoped they hadn't been.

"That hardly seems like the foundation for a healthy relationship," Draco continued, sounding far to happy about that for Harry's liking and Harry scowled. "Do you honestly want to be in a relationship where the first thing you were seen as, before anything else, was _The Chosen One_?"

The way Draco spat out the title actually cheered Harry up some, but not enough to stop him from muttering bitterly, "So what you're saying is, I'm going to die alone?"

There was a brief pause, then Draco said, voice suddenly seeming oddly quiet in the empty hallway, "Contrary to what you might believe Potter, not everybody is fooled by that Boy Who Lived bullshit. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who see you for the reckless, idiotic, insanely lucky prat you actually are."

Harry swallowed, hard. Was Draco Malfoy _actually_ comforting him? And worst, was it actually working? Harry knew the answer was. That crippling pain he had felt only moments before had receded at some point, without him even noticing. He could breathe freely again.

"Now, if you could be so kind as to get off me, I have a charms essay to write," Draco said.

Harry flushed darkly and abruptly stepped back, feeling hot and flustered. "Sorry."

Draco made a big show of straightening up and smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on his robes as he drawled carelessly, "I'm sure the Weasel and Granger will love to take part in your pity fest — " He paused and his small, rather pointed nose scrunched up disdainfully, " — that is, if you can catch them without their tongues down each others' throats."

And with that, Draco turned on his heel and walked away, heading in the direction of the library and leaving Harry watching him go, feeling completely bemused and, against all odds, a little bit better. Absently, Harry began the walk to the Eighth Year common room, taking a small comfort in the fact that at least he didn't have to worry about running into Ginny in the common room. Just nearly all of his classes and every meal. Great.

Due to the surprising amount of Eighth Years who had returned, McGonagall had to make alternative arrangements for them since there simply wasn't enough room to squeeze them all into their previous common rooms. Their old dorms now belonged to last year's sixth years, and the dorms weren't big enough to accommodate any more than one or two beds. As an alternative, McGonagall had created had transformed the previously unused tower of Turris Medius into a common room for all of the eighth years, regardless of houses. Nobody had anticipated the amount of students who had returned to repeat their seventh year, but by far the biggest shock had been the Slytherins. Harry remembered being so taken aback by the sight of Draco Malfoy boarding the Hogwarts Express, flanked by Pansy, Blaise, and Goyle, he had dropped his trunk right on Ron's foot. And the four of them hadn't been alone. Before long, their carriage was joined by Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, and a couple other Slytherins in his year Harry only faintly recognized. More Slytherins had returned than any other House.

The new Housing arrangement had been touch and go in the beginning, but before long, old rivalries had been forgotten. It wasn't out of the ordinary now to walk into the common room and see Pansy and Parvati gossiping away, or Blaise and Justin Finch-Fletchley having a heated discussion about muggle and wizard politics. Surviving a war did that sometimes.

By the time Harry reached the entrance to the Eighth Year common room, he was actually feeling okay. Not great, but okay. His anger had diminished drastically to a quiet seething he could almost forget as long as he didn't think about the cause and his pain had receded to a dull, constant ache in his chest, that, while unpleasant, was no longer crippling. The entrance was guarded by a painting of the four great founders of Hogwarts. McGonagall seemed to think it was fitting and that it would give them all a sense of unity. What she hadn't counted on was none of the founders seemed to like each other very much.

"So help me Godric, if you make one more filthy innuendo about the chamber of secrets, I will find some way to kill you, immortal painting or not," Salazar Slytherin snarled, his painted face red and blotchy as he glared darkly at the man across from him. Godric Gryffindor roared with laughter, looking vastly amused by the man's anger.

"Excuse me," Harry said, trying to break in. Sometimes it took several minutes to earn the founders' attention, especially when they were bickering, but this time, Rowena Ravenclaw, who had been watching the fight from the sidelines, spotted him.

"Enough squabbling," She scolded Godric and Salazar as if they were children. Both men seethed at the treatment, but she ignored them as she looked at Harry and asked, "Password, child?"

"Fawkes," Harry said quickly, deeply relieved when the portrait swung open without any further ado.

He stepped into the common room and found himself face to face with Neville, who looked like he was just getting ready to leave.

"Hey, Harry," Neville greeted him, giving him a smile that was equal parts guilty and pitying, and _how_ hadn't he seen this sooner, he wondered as rage surged through him and his clenched fist sailed forward, slugging Neville right in his eye.

Neville reeled backwards with a howl of pain, clutching his eye. Before Harry could even consider hitting him again, several people sprung forward, getting between them and talking over each other.

"What the hell was that for?" Seamus demanded from Neville's side.

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron swore beside him, one hand on Harry's arm.

"What has gotten into you?" Hermione asked.

Everyone in the common room was staring at him, waiting for an explanation — everyone except Neville, who's gaze was on the floor, his face pinched with both pain and guilt. Harry shoved off the hands on him and stalked up to the dorms without a word. He knew his talk with Draco was the only reason he was able to walk away from Neville right now. If he had met Neville instead of Draco in that hallway, Neville would have gotten off with a lot worst than a single punch.

When the door to the dormitory opened, Harry didn't bother to look up from his position sprawled on his bed, his legs hanging off the side and his gaze fixed unseeingly on the red canopy above. He didn't have to look. He already knew who it was.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"Ginny broke up with me," Harry informed them in a monotone.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sympathetically, sinking down onto the bed next to him while Ron fumed for a few moments, several mutters of, "Bloody hell," falling from his lips before he finally fell heavily down onto the bed on Harry's other side, still silently fuming. Despite everything, Harry smiled slightly at the redhead's indignation. It was nice to know that at times like these, Ron still had his back, even if Ginny was his sister.

After a moment, Hermione said gently, "I know you're upset, but that's no excuse to take it out on Neville. He didn't do anything."

Harry smiled sardonically and said, "No, you're right, he didn't do anything, except for chummy up to my girl and make her fall for him while I was off destroying ho cruxes and risking my life — but yeah, no, he didn't do anything at all."

Harry told them everything Ginny had told him not even an hour ago. It seemed Ginny and Neville had grown extremely close during their final year, closer than he had realized. Ginny had stressed that nothing had actually happened between them other than one kiss, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter that technically they hadn't been dating during that period, there had been an unspoken promise there, and she had betrayed that by falling for Neville. Harry finished with, "She left me for Neville. Still think I didn't have a reason to punch Hermione?"

A stunned silence followed his words. Harry was secretly pleased when he saw the genuine shock on Hermione's face because if Hermione hadn't noticed, then maybe it hadn't been so blatantly obvious after all. Maybe he wasn't a complete idiot for not seeing it sooner. When the news finally fully sunk in, Ron looked livid and more than ready to march down to the common room and tear Neville apart, but Harry caught his sleeve, stopping him.

"Don't," Harry said warily. He was suddenly just so tired of all of it. He wanted to close his eyes and just stop — stop thinking, stop feeling, stop _existing_. "Just drop it."

Hermione and Ron seemed to understand because they didn't say another word for several minutes. Hermione silently laid down beside him on her side and tucked her face into his shoulder. Her hand found his and she gave it a comforting squeeze as Ron flopped down onto his back on his other side, his shoulder a comforting pressure against Harry's.

"Are you okay, mate?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry opened his mouth to say he was fine, but then he remembered who he was talking to. He sighed and said heavily, "I will be."

They laid in a comfortable silence until Harry's eyes finally slipped closed and he was lost to the world. When he woke up, it was the middle of the night and he was lying properly in his bed, his blanket tucked around him. His glasses and shoes had been removed and he smiled softly into his pillow. _I love my friends_, he thought sleepily as he drifted back off to sleep, chasing a citrus-y scent he faintly remembered, yet couldn't quite place.

:::

When Harry awoke the next morning, Neville was gone, and he didn't see Draco on his way to the Great Hall. He wasn't entirely sure why he was looking, but at the same time, he couldn't quite remember a time he ever _wasn't_ looking. Wasn't knowing the blonde's location at all times kind of what he did — what he had _always_ done? When they walked into the Great Hall, the first thing Harry noticed was Neville. He felt a surge of dark satisfaction when the boy turned his head to look at Seamus sitting beside him and Harry saw his right eye was swollen shut and a horrible shade of purple. As he took a seat far away from Neville, he looked over at the Slytherin table. Draco must've been looking at him, because their eyes met immediately. Draco inclined his head towards Neville before he flicked up an eyebrow and smirked in a way that seemed to say, _nice Potter_.

Harry grinned broadly. Draco's gaze moved over his shoulder and a scowl darkened his handsome face. Harry caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eyes and turned just in time to see Ginny walk pass him, her face fixed forward determinedly in a way that made it clear she was trying very hard to pretend she didn't notice him. He watched as she hesitated briefly before slipping into the seat beside Neville. Neville turned to look at her and a smile lit up his face.

Harry instantly felt sick, his appetite gone. Whatever sense of guilt that had kept her from looking at him vanished in an instant when she saw Neville's eye. She threw a dark look at Harry, looking very much like she wanted to hex him for hurting the love of her life. Harry glared darkly back at her with so much animosity, even she seemed taken aback by it. He turned back to his plate with a scowl, his good mood crushed.

:::

The first thing Harry heard when he walked into potions was Draco's unmistakeable drawl.

"What happened to your eye Longbottom?"

Draco and Neville were right in front of the door, blocking them from going in any further. The class was divided into three parts, those behind Neville, those behind Draco, and then the rest who were keeping to the walls and watching with undisguised interest. The group behind Neville was much bigger than Draco's handful of eighth year Slytherins, but that didn't stop Draco from continuing, "It looks like you got into a match with a boxing telescope and lost."

"Piss off, Malfoy," Neville snarled.

"You better be careful, Longbottom," Draco sneered. "You can't afford to lose anymore brain cells as is."

"Honestly," Hermione muttered behind him. She moved to break up the fight, but then, something happened. Neville took a menacing step towards Draco, looking ready to lunge at him, and Harry's body moved automatically.

He shoved himself in-between them, back to Draco, his voice seeming to leave him on its own accord, "Leave him alone, or I'll make your other eye match."

As Harry glowered down at Neville, he didn't stop to think about what he was doing or why he was defending Draco Malfoy; The whispers that immediately broke out around him were doing that for him. He just glared at Neville, silently daring him to say something. Neville face contorted, turning an ugly purple shade, and he looked very much like he wanted to say something, but was torn between lashing back or dropping his head in guilt. It pissed Harry off.

Before either of them could do anything, Professor Slughorn appeared from his office and ordered them to take their seats. The crowd scattered, but Harry and Neville didn't move. Slughorn stopped when he saw them and cleared his throat pointedly, repeating, "Your seats, if you will."

Harry didn't move. Neville hesitated for a moment, before he turned away and headed to his seat without a word. Harry watched him go before he headed to his own seat. Hermione and Ron were already sitting, and Ron whined, "I don't blame you for wanting to take any chance to punch Neville, mate, but does it _have_ to be over Malfoy? If you hadn't interfered, the ferret might've gotten punched."

"Oh, Ronald," Hermione huffed exasperatedly. "Grow up."

"I have grown up," Ron said indignantly. "We've shared a common room with the ferret for over a month now and he's still alive. That's growth."

Harry tuned them out, glancing over at Draco. The blonde seemed to be in a headed discussion with Pansy, their heads bent low together. Blaise lounged back in his seat beside Pansy, looking bored by whatever they were talking about, until he glanced over and noticed Harry's gaze. Immediately, he ducked his head down with Pansy and Draco's and whispered something. Before Harry could do more than scowl uncomfortably, cheeks heating up, Ginny walked into the classroom, earning his attention. He watched as she lingered in the doorway for just a second, before taking the empty seat next to Neville. She usually sat with a Gryffindor girl named Mary or Marlene or something — or at least she had when they were dating. Apparently, Neville got special privileges.

Harry turned to Slughorn with a scowl and forced himself to pay attention as the man began the lesson. He didn't notice the irritated gray eyes.

"Very funny," Draco spat at Blaise as he turned back around.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I'm telling you, he was staring at you before the Weasley girl walked in and distracted him."

"Something happened that you're not telling us about," Pansy accused him. "Spit it out, Draco. What happened after you overheard the big break-up?"

Draco fiddled with his book and didn't look at them as said casually, "He might've caught me eavesdropping and had a little break down. It's no big deal — "

"Details," Pansy and Blaise ordered in unison. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I could tell he was trying to get me to piss him off so he could punch me, so I offered, very generously I might add, to let him. He got all weak-kneed and broke down so I comforted him — "

"You slept with him!" Pansy hissed accusingly.

"No!" Draco snapped. "Why is that immediately where your mind goes?"

As Pansy shrugged, Blaise said, "Wait a minute, you comforted someone? You?"

"I'll have you know, I'm a very warm person," Draco responded haughtily.

Blaise snorted. "Yeah, okay."

Draco scowled at him.

"What did you tell him?" Pansy asked.

"That he was better off without the Weaslette."

At the mention of Ginny, they all looked behind them. Ginny and Neville were talking quietly at their desk. Both of them seemed completely oblivious the occasional glances Harry kept giving them.

"He looks like a kicked puppy," Pansy remarked as they watched Harry turn back to his potions book with a downcast expression. Draco made a sound of agreement, his eyes moving from Harry back to Ginny and Neville. An idea began to brew in his mind. Beside him, Pansy smirked wickedly.

"I know that expression. You're scheming."

Harry was in the middle of cutting up a flobberworm and trying very hard not to be sick when an unmistakeable head of blonde walked passed his desk. Harry followed Draco with his eyes automatically and watched as he rummage through the ingredient cupboard. When Draco turned around, something clutched in his hands, his eyes met Harry's.

_Watch_, Draco mouthed.

So Harry did, curiosity rising in him. The blonde headed back to his seat. As he walked passed Neville's desk, he dropped whatever was in his hand into the boy's cauldron before running his through his hair smoothly. The action was so quick and casual, Harry barely even noticed it even while watching him like a hawk. Neville continued to talk to Ginny, completely oblivious. Ginny's eyes followed Draco as he continued on to his seat, but Harry knew she hadn't noticed either. As Draco retook his seat, he looked back at Harry. He answered his question with a lazy smirk that seemed to say, _just wait_, before he looked away, feigning a bored sweep of the room.

Harry didn't know what it was about the thought of Draco scheming something that made his heartbeat double and his pulse race with excitement and a burning curiosity. He couldn't help glancing at Neville frequently over the next few minutes, waiting impatiently for something to happen. The curiosity was becoming nearly unbearable when Neville added another ingredient to his potion and then, finally, something happened.

Neville's potion exploded right in his face, a cloud of purple smoke enveloping both the boy and Ginny completely. Panic fired through Harry, his breath hitching in his throat. Neville might not be his favorite person in the world right now, but he didn't want his face blown off. But then, the smoke cleared and Harry let out a startled laugh as laughter exploded around the classroom. Neville and Ginny's skin was a putrid shade of green and their hair was purple and standing on end, making them resemble life-size versions of muggle troll dolls.

Harry didn't think he had ever laughed so hard in his life. Ron roared with laughter beside him and even Hermione was laughing so hard she was snorting, although she tried to hide it behind her potions book. Harry looked over at Draco and their eyes met. Amusement glittered in Draco's gray eyes, making them glow, and Harry could never understand how he had ever thought those eyes were cold. And Draco had done that for him. Harry smiled at him. Draco's lip tilted up slightly —

"Malfoy did it!" Ginny exploded angrily, and instantly the moment was over as all eyes turned to her, including Harry's. "I saw him walk by Neville's potion! He must've put something in it!"

"That's a heavy accusation to make without any proof," Professor Slughorn protested. Pansy's hand shot up immediately, and Slughorn sighed warily. "Yes, Ms. Parkinson?"

"Professor, if I may, I noticed Potter saw Draco walk by. Surely, if he had done something, Potter would have seen," Pansy said sweetly.

Draco threw Pansy a look, but Pansy didn't notice, her eyes, like everyone else in the classroom now, on Harry. There was on penetrating intentness to Pansy's gaze, as if she was scrutinizing him. It was the kind of gaze that made you want to puff out your chest and sit a little straighter. Professor Slughorn gaze him a questioning look and Harry glanced at Draco briefly before he looked Professor Slughorn right in the eye and said, "Malfoy was just minding his own business, Professor."

"Well, there you have it," Slughorn declared, satisfied. "Ms. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, why don't you head down to the infirmary and get that — sorted out."

When Ginny walked by, she threw a suspicious look at Harry, but Harry didn't notice because his gaze was on Draco. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise's heads were once against bent together, talking in low voices he couldn't hear.

Twice now, Draco Malfoy had comforted him and twice now, he's defended him. He even blatantly lied to a professor for him. Clearly, the world was coming to an end. Harry bent low over his potions book to hide his broad grin.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You're all so sweet :3 I'm not a big fan of ff's layout when it comes to replying to reviews, so I'll be replying here like this ^^

Lethe the dragon & Greeneyedgal: I do plan to take Harry/Draco's relationship slow, rest assured. When it comes to drarry, slow building slash is definitely my favorite method (given all the history between them and everything). There will definitely be some bumps and turns down the road (it's not drarry without _some_ kind of angst), and as far as Harry's sexuality goes, that will be explained more in depth in the next chapter :) Oh, and Lethe the dragon, I really appreciate the offer and I'll definitely keep that in mind :) As far as the sex aspect goes, I know a _lot_ about gay sex, far more than any female should (I'm a seasoned slash fan ;D), but I wouldn't mind picking your mind some time about more of the mental aspect (like realizing it and coming to terms with it, etc). As far as this fic goes, I've already planned out how I'm going to handle Harry's sexuality for the most part, but I'd love to talk about those things some time for future fic references :)

* * *

For once, Harry was actually grateful for how absorbed Hermione and Ron were in each other. Over the next couple of days, Harry found himself unable to keep his eyes off Draco. He had always had a tendency to follow the blonde with his eyes, but never to this extent. Multiple times now, he had caught himself staring at Draco during classes or during meals, wishing the blonde would look up and give him a smirk or a nod, or something to indicate that their relationship had changed a little. They had talked without insulting each other. They had shared smirks and inside jokes and even _laughs_. Surely, some balance in their relationship must've shifted after that. But other than a few odd times their gazes met, they were back to how they had been before, continuing their lives like the other didn't exist.

Harry had never thought he'd miss somebody insulting him, but he had even started to crave their old relationship of petty remarks and mockery. At least they had acknowledged each other.

Although they shared a common room and were never really far apart, Harry had never felt further from him. And the worst part was, he didn't know how to bridge it. He couldn't even explain to himself what he wanted, no less walk over to Draco (and, naturally, Draco's friends) and explain it to them

Early Saturday morning, Harry headed down to the quidditch pitch. It had become a routine of his to wake up early on Saturdays and go flying. Thankfully, none of the other boys in his dorm were willing to forgo sleep for flying, so he didn't have to worry about them tagging along. It was the only time he truly got to be alone, just him and his broom and the sky. It helped him clear his head and unwind after a long week.

As he headed down to the broom-cupboard, he kept his head bent low against the chilly morning breeze, wishing he had thought to bring a scarf. He didn't notice the broom-cupboard was already occupied until a head of white-blonde hair popped up from behind the door. He picked up his pace, nearly sprinting the rest of the distance.

"Malfoy."

Draco jumped and nearly dropped his broom.

"Potter," he responded politely enough with a curt nod.

He moved as if to return his broom, although Harry was fairly certain the boy had been grabbing it a second ago. Thinking fast, Harry blurted out, "Let's race. For old time's sake."

Eighth years weren't allowed to play quidditch. There had been a big uproar from the other students about it being unfair, since they had an added year's advantage, and finally, McGonagall had sided with the other students, reasoning they had all returned to focus on their NEWTs and didn't need other distractions. It seemed like ages ago since the last time him and Draco had been on a quidditch pitch together.

"Unless you're scared," Harry tacked on.

Immediately, a competitive spark lit up Draco's gray eyes.

"You're on."

They headed down to the pitch, taunting each other the whole time and arguing about who was better. Harry hadn't realized how much he had missed arguing with Draco until now. Sometimes, their arguments were downright vicious, but they were always fun. Nothing had ever made him feel quite so alive, not even quidditch. They raced and then they raced again, and again, and again, until finally, they couldn't race anymore. Six races later, they collapsed in the middle of the pitch, breathless, bodies stiff and numb from the cold air.

"Call it a tie?" Harry panted out, his chest heaving. Every cool, November breath he drew tore at his throat and lungs, and he wished now, more than ever, that he had a scarf. Naturally, Draco had thought to bring one, his neck wrapped snugly in Slytherin green. Harry glared enviously at it as Draco nodded in answer to his question, unable to speak. He was in even worst condition than Harry, his pale skin tinted purple, except for his cheeks and nose, which shone a bright, pretty pink. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he looked quite ready to collapse backwards and never move again, and yet, it was him who had insisted on that last race. Harry bit down a smile at the thought.

"We should do this again," Harry said when Draco regained his breath.

Draco looked at him, gray eyes bright and pale hair in disarray. "Alright. Same time next week. Don't keep me waiting Potter."

•••

Saturday mornings went from Harry's alone time to his time with Draco. During the week, they barely acknowledged each other, except for the occasional nod when they saw each other or their eyes met, but then Saturday morning would come and it was like nobody else existed in the world, just them and their brooms and the sky. Harry expected to miss his alone time just a little, but he didn't; Alone time with Draco was a refreshing change. Nobody could quite get his blood boiling like Draco could, the blonde's appearance turning what had once been a leisurely, rather lethargic flying session to an all out adrenaline pumping match. Harry refused to loose face in front of Draco and he found himself doing horribly reckless stunts he normally would never even dream of doing just to show off to the blonde, and whatever he did, Draco not only tried to match it, but take it one step forward.

On the third Saturday, as they sat sprawled on the quidditch pitch, trying to catch their breaths after a particularly vigorous race in which that had _actually flew into _the Forbidden Forest, Harry wondered idly how they hadn't gotten each other killed yet. He watched as Draco picked bits of grass out of the ground and shredded them with his long, thin fingers. He was thinking about how skiving Hogsmeade later when a thought suddenly occurred to him and he blurted out, "What are you doing today? For Hogsmeade I mean?"

"Pansy's making me go with the usual gang," Draco said a bit absently, watching bits of grass float away on the breeze.

Harry silently questioned _making_, but just said, "Oh," dejectedly.

Draco's gray eyes snapped to him. "Why?"

"I don't think I can take another Hogsmeade trip as the third wheel," Harry said, grimacing as he remembered last week. For ten minutes, _ten bloody minutes_ — he had spent the time staring at the clock — Ron and Hermione had snogged at the Hog's Head with Harry sitting right next to them, until Aberforth had finally broken it up with a grunt of, "Merlin lad, let her breathe."

His grimace was mirrored on Draco's face and he knew the blonde was thinking about one of Ron and Hermione's countless snogging sessions on the common room couch. Every eighth year knew that expression well.

"And I'm ninety percent sure Dean and Seamus are going on a date, although Seamus insists it's not like that every time anybody asks," Harry continued. With Dean and Seamus out, all that left in their group of friends was Neville and Ginny, and while Harry was doing slightly better with that, he certainly wasn't going to be a third wheel on _their_ date.

"I didn't know Thomas and Finnigan were an item," Draco said interestedly.

"I don't actually know if they are or not," Harry admitted. "They both clearly like each other. I can't imagine why they'd keep it a secret if they were dating, but," Harry shrugged, "people have their own reasons, I guess."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

Draco was watching him with an odd sort of intentness. It made Harry uncomfortable, doing strange things to his stomach.

"Sharing a dorm with poofs."

"No, and why should it? If they are dating, at least they're discreet about it, unlike some people."

They both shuddered as Ron and Hermione's name hung unspoken in the air. Draco smiled slightly, something he had been doing a lot more lately. It was nice. It made his pointed face seem softer and brighter.

"I suppose the gang will survive without me," Draco mused.

Harry perked up instantly. "Yeah?"

"I can't in good conscience leave you to suffer the Weasel/Granger mating fest. I'm not _that_ cruel."

Harry grinned and opened his mouth to respond, but his stomach chose that moment to remind him he was sorely in need of some breakfast. They returned their brooms and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. When they reached the doors to the Great Hall, they lingered for a second, like they always did. Harry waited for the nod that signaled it was time to part ways, but instead of giving him that nod, Draco asked, "Why do you want to go with me?"

"Why not?" Harry asked with a shrug.

Draco snorted softly. "I could think of a lot of reasons why not."

"Really?" Harry asked, an easy smile lighting up his face as a hand jumped up to ruffle the back of his hair. "Because I can't."

And with that, he turned and headed over to the Gryffindor table where Hermione and Ron already sat waiting for him, Hermione's eyes watching his approach and Draco's eyes watching his retreat.

•••

"Careful, your crush is shoving," A voice whispered in Draco's ear. Draco jumped and whirled around to glare at a cackling Pansy. Behind her, Blaise smirked at him.

"Shut it," Draco grumbled as they headed to the Slytherin table. "Where's Goyle?"

"Today is one of those rare days he's forgoing food for sleep," Blaise answered.

Draco scowled. "By choice? Or did you just not bother to wake him up?"

"I threw a shoe at him and he still didn't wake up," Blaise said defensively. "Theo even tried shaking him. The guy sleeps like the dead. They'll be plenty for him to eat at Hogsmeade and quite frankly, he can stand to miss a meal." When Draco's scowl didn't lessen, Blaise continued softer, "You know, you're not his caretaker Draco."

Draco bit the inside of his lip and turned away.

"Theo's going to Hogsmeade with Emily," Pansy continued quickly, breaking the tense, heavy silence that had begun to fall. Both Pansy and Blaise knew the cause for Draco's new surge of protectiveness over Goyle, and they had all spent more than enough time mourning over Crabbe. "She told me this morning. He finally plucked up the courage to ask her last night."

"You should have seen him do it," Blaise said with a snicker. "He was a wreck, all red and stuttering."

Draco snorted as he remembered. Him and Blaise had been on their way to the library when they stumbled on that particularly amusing confession. He seemed to be in the habit of running into things while on the way to the library, he mused as he reached for a piece of toast.

"So it's just going to be us three and Goyle at Hogsmeade," Pansy continued.

"Nope," Draco said. "It'll just be you two and Goyle."

"Draco Malfoy, I am not having this argument again. You are going to Hogsmeade even if I have to drag you there, and if anybody says a word to you, I'll personally kick their ass —"

"I am going," Draco said airily, his gaze on his toast as he buttered it. "Just not with you."

"Then who?" Pansy asked, and there was an edge to her voice that would never truly go away, despite both of them having realized long ago that their feelings for each other were purely platonic. A gay revelation and a crush for one Padma Patil later, Pansy was still possessive over him, like a mother hen.

"With Potter," Draco said casually.

"Details," Blaise and Pansy demanded in unison.

"You two really need to stop doing that. It's unsettling."

"Draco," Pansy said warningly.

"He asked me because he couldn't stomach another Weasel/Granger snogging fest," Draco said and waited for the storm of questions and hypothesizing that were sure to follow as he daintily licked crumbs off his fingers, not noticing the bright green gaze on him from across the hall.

•••

"Did Malfoy do something?" Ron asked, and Harry ripped his gaze away from the sight of Draco licking his fingers, which was doing very odd things to his stomach. Very odd things indeed.

"No, why?"

"Because you're looking at him like you want to murder him."

"Or do something else to him," Hermione commented slyly, raising an eyebrow at him. Harry flushed at her tone.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry told her stubbornly, returning his attention resolutely to his plate. He didn't. Whatever she was implying, if she was implying _that_, was completely ridiculous. So what if he caught himself staring at Draco without meaning to? So what if he noticed little things, like all the different shades of gray in Draco's eyes, or the way he always seemed to smell amazing, even when he was all sweaty from flying? Or how sometimes, when he was trying to fall asleep at night, he couldn't get the image of how Draco looked after flying, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, hair disheveled, and just so utterly _alive_.

None of that meant anything. He liked girls.

_Ginny smells wonderful_, Harry thought with a scowl, as if to reassure himself. He had always loved Ginny's flowery scent and how when they hugged, it just seemed to flow out of her soft red locks, perfect for burying his face in. Yes, he definitely liked girls.

"I need to pick up a new quill while we're in Hogsmeade," Hermione said then, earning his attention. "And I wouldn't mind stopping at the bookstore as well."

"Whatever you want, love," Ron said around a mouthful of food, and Hermione beamed, eyes going fond and doe-eyed.

"Uh, about Hogsmeade," Harry said quickly, breaking in before they could get into _another_ 'no, you're sweeter' debate. "I made plans to go with someone else."

"That's great!" Ron said enthusiastically, clapping him on the back. Harry could immediately tell he had misunderstood and he hurried to correct him.

"It's not like that — "

"It's alright mate," Ron said, cutting him off with a wink. "You'll introduce us to the lucky person when you're ready."

"It's really not like that," Harry protested as he silently mulled over _'person'_. Why person and not girl? He looked at Hermione, who was smiling oddly at him, and stressed, "It's _really _not."

Hermione looked very amused, her eyes twinkling as she said, "I think it's great you're moving on."

Harry knew she was doing this to him on purpose. She knew damn well who he was going with. She had seen them walk in together and she was smart enough to deduce the fact that Draco was the only person he could've possibly asked in the time frame since last night. She knew he was going with Draco so why did she keep looking at him like that?

"It's not like that," Harry groaned again.

Ron chuckled. "Whatever you say, mate."

Harry let it go. A small voice at the back of his mind reminded him he could fix this misunderstanding easily by telling Ron who he was going with, but he was hesitant to say it now with the way Hermione kept looking at him and the way Ron was grinning so widely at his plate, clearly pleased to hear he was getting over Ginny. He knew if he mentioned Draco, it was bound to turn into a huge thing with Ron. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if Ron misunderstood.

Ron and Hermione headed out early on Hermione's insistence. She rolled over Ron's protests with shrill clucks about that quill she needed, but as they left, the covert, mysterious smile she gave Harry belied her quill excuse. It left him feeling distinctly hot and flustered as Draco joined him in the entrance hall, walking quickly up to him.

"Ready?" Harry asked him, but his attention was diverted over the blonde's shoulder to Pansy and Blaise who were laughing uproariously a short distance behind Draco. They even appeared to be doing some kind of skit, but before Harry could get a good look, Draco abruptly grabbed his elbow and turned him away.

"Let's get going, shall we?" Draco said curtly, all, but dragging Harry towards the door. Harry let himself be hurried along, bemused. He chanced another glance back at Blaise and Pansy before Draco pulled him through the door and saw for just a moment that their smiles had soften into something more genuine and fond.

Once they were out the doors and away from Pansy and Blaise, Draco seemed to relax a little.

"What was that about?" Harry asked him curiously.

"Nothing," Draco said dismissively, his tone making it clear he didn't want to talk about it. Harry let it go.

They walked for a short way in silence, and Harry couldn't shake his sudden nervousness. He was damning Hermione and her mysterious smiles, when Draco broke the silence.

"So are you always this talkative on dates?"

Harry flushed darkly, going red to the tip of his roots, and spluttered out, "_What?_"

Draco laughed, a real laugh that took Harry so aback, he actually forgot to be embarrassed. That might've been the first time he had ever heard Draco laugh without it being over something cruel or nasty. It was surprisingly nice.

"It was a joke, Potter," Draco said, still snickering slightly.

"Oh," Harry muttered, still feeling a bit hot around the collar. He didn't know what possessed him to say what he did next, "And it's date. Singular."

"What?"

"I've only been on one date," Harry muttered, flushing darker. Why the hell was he telling Malfoy this? He silently cursed himself, but plunged on anyways. "And it was an absolute nightmare."

"Oh yeah?" Draco asked gleefully. "Tell me all about it."

"Seriously?" Harry asked, brow furrowing.

"You know me. I love to revel in your misery. Come on, give me all the horrific details and don't be stingy."

"Fine. It was with Cho Chang. We went to Madam Puddifoot's, which is quite possibly the most nauseous place I've ever stepped foot in."

Draco snorted.

Encouraged, Harry continued, "The place was full of couples holding hands and snogging, and she just kept staring at me the whole time. I don't think I've ever felt more uncomfortable in my life."

"You faced down the Dark Lord yet you quell before Cho Chang?" Draco asked, sounding vastly amused.

"Shut up," Harry said, but there was no animosity in his voice as he playfully bumped his shoulder against Draco's.

"So then what?" Draco asked. "Did you hold her hand? Snog her? Crack under pressure and bolt from the place?"

Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. "No. I mentioned meeting up with Hermione after and next thing I knew she brought up Cedric, and then she started crying and shouting at me until she finally bolted."

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said it was a nightmare," Draco said, looking like Christmas had come early.

By now, they had reached Hogsmeade. They walked right passed the Three Broomsticks, making their way to the Hog's Head.

"I bet you don't even know what you did wrong," Draco mused after a moment.

"What?"

"Girls don't like it when guys talk about other girls," Draco said matter-of-factly.

"And you're such an expert on girls?"

Draco laughed loudly at that, the loud sound startling Harry, before the blonde said, "Hardly."

There was something in his voice that made Harry feel like he was missing out on some kind of inside joke, but before he could question it, Draco continued, "So, you're telling me you've never been on a date with the Weaslette?"

"Not really," Harry said. "There wasn't a chance before the war. And after, we always just went to Hogsmeade with everyone as a group."

"Huh," was all Draco said.

By now, they had reached the Hog's Head. Harry moved to open the door, but before he could, the door opened with a chime and somebody walked out and right into him.

"Sorry," Harry and the person apologized at the same time. Harry blinked and looked down just as the person looked up. Ginny gave him a half-smile that was tinged with awkwardness.

"Hi," She greeted him quietly.

"Hi," He echoed, before Ron's voice suddenly cut in.

"_Malfoy_?"

For the first time, Harry noticed the rest of the people there. All of his friends were there. They must've all met up at the Hog's Head for drinks just like they always did, except usually Harry was with them, and not standing opposite them with Draco Malfoy at his side. There was a brief silence, and then Seamus asked with a laugh, "_This_ is your hot date? Malfoy?"

Harry groaned and then he noticed Draco look at him, eyebrows raised, and he flushed darkly.

"I told you it wasn't like that," He snapped weakly at Ron.

"What are you doing with _Malfoy_?" Ron asked, and the way he had said it made Harry's skin prickle and his blood boil.

"We're friends," Harry declared boldly. All eyes turned to him, wide with surprise, except for Hermione, who was suddenly inspecting a rock on the ground with a great deal of interest. Clearly, she hadn't let Ron in on her knowledge of Harry's new flying partner. If Harry wasn't staring defiantly at Ron, he might've noticed the Draco's gaze was among those surprised.

Ron went very red and looked like he was about to explode.

"Careful Weasley. If you strain yourself anymore, you might pull something, and Merlin knows you can afford a trip to the hospital," Draco commented very, very unhelpfully. Ron snarled as Harry threw Draco a _really? _look that Draco returned with an innocent _what?_ look.

Then, because Ron looked like he was going to lunge at Draco at any second, Harry grabbed Draco's elbow much like Draco had grabbed his in the Entrance Hall and stirred the blonde inside as he said quickly, "Well, it was nice seeing you guys."

"What the fu—"

The door closed behind them, cutting Ron off.

"Must you?" Harry asked Draco exasperatedly.

"Oh, I must," Draco reassured him, leading the way up to the counter. When he reached the counter he traded nods with Aberforth and said pleasantly in greeting, "Aberforth."

Aberforth gave Draco a smile, and Harry was thrown by the action. He hadn't given it much thought, but if he had, he certainly wouldn't have thought they'd be on good terms to say the least. He was still pondering this while he exchanged greetings absently with Aberforth.

"So, I see you and the red-haired girl broke up, eh?" Aberforth asked Harry.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Yes."

"Good riddance," Aberforth said with a wave of his hand. "You can do better."

"I thought you liked Ginny?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Ay, she's a great girl. Fierce as a lion. That's the best kind." He gave Harry a wink that just left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable and confused. "But not for you. You're like me. You need a person who'll challenge you every step of the way, or you'll get bored."

"Oh, I see," Harry said, although he didn't see at all. He was, however, very ready for this conversation to be over.

"So, what can I get you two?" Aberforth asked.

"Two butter-beers," Harry began, but Draco scoffed loudly.

"What are you, a saint Potter? Two firewhiskeys," Draco said, taking the money out and dropping it onto the counter before Harry could protest.

As Aberforth swept up the money and grabbed their firewhiskey, he chuckled in a knowing way that made Harry feel hot around his ears and even more uncomfortable. Harry and Draco grabbed their drinks and took a seat further down at the counter, far enough that they could talk without being overheard by Aberforth.

"That was... weird, to say the least," Harry commented once they were out of earshot.

"He's right though," Draco said, drumming his fingers on the counter. "You'd get bored of the Weaslette eventually."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"It's all in the banter, Potter," Draco drawled. "If you can hold a stimulating conversation with a person, you can't even begin to hope for other things to be stimulating. That goes double for you. I can't imagine after spending nearly your whole life on the edge of death, you'd be very content in a sappy, doe-eyed relationship like Granger and Weasley there. You need someone who can keep you on your toes, make you feel _alive_."

"You mean someone like you?"

The words left Harry quite without his permission, and he immediately wished he could take them back. Draco stilled, then he looked away, taking a sip of his drink. When he looked back at Harry, his usual arrogant smirk was in place.

"Careful, Potter. Talk like that and people might get the wrong impression."

"I don't care what people think," Harry muttered absently.

"Oh, I know," Draco said, and there was a touch of jealousy to his words Harry wondered if he had imagined.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, filled only by the clinks of their drinks as they filled it by drinking. The silence didn't last long though as Draco's gaze went over Harry's shoulder and the blonde snorted softly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Draco said. Then, his eyes brightened as an idea occurred to him. "Let's place a drinking game."

"Alright. What did you have in mind?"

Six mugs of firewhiskey later, Harry concluded this 'drinking game' was a poorly disguised excuse to just get completely smashed. It didn't even make sense. They took turns asking each other questions and then took a drink. That was it. That was the whole game. Question, answer, then drink. Harry was starting to think Draco didn't really understand how drinking games worked. And what had started as fairly quiet conversation was now an all out drunken shouting match to talk over each other.

"You would like Falmouth Falcons!" Harry shouted back. "They're a bunch of vicious, cheating bastards!" He paused, then he smirked, amused. "Just like you."

"You would like Puddlemere United," Draco scoffed. "They're all a bunch of reckless, hotheads and sticklers about _playing fair_. Just like _you_, you bloody Gryffindor!"

"Slytherin!" Harry retorted.

"Alright, alright lads," Aberforth broke in. "You're already late. Any later and I'll have your headmistress knocking on my door. Get on then."

Aberforth all, but pushed them out the front doors. It wasn't until they stumbled outside, Harry's arm around Draco's waist and Draco's arm slung around his shoulders, Harry realized how late it was. The sun was already hiding behind the houses on the horizon, the sky quickly turning dark.

"Whoops," Draco said in his ear, followed by a giggle that Harry joined.

They made their way back to Hogwarts, stumbling and laughing the whole way. Once, Harry tripped over his own feet, sending them both crashing into a gutter, and it took several minutes for them to stop laughing and untangle themselves, and then several _more_ minutes to stop laughing after Draco quipped wittily, "Geez, walk much."

When they reached the school, the Entrance Hall was empty and dinner was already over.

"Ugh, I'm starving," Draco complained loudly, his voice echoing around the empty entrance hall. "I think I might die. Yep, definitely feeling feint."

"Shh," Harry shushed him, ruining it with a loud laugh. "Come on."

He tugged Draco towards the kitchens, shushing his questions. When they reached the painting of the fruit bowl, Harry tickled the pear, which Draco found immensely funny in his inebriated state. The painting moved, revealing the kitchens, and Draco abruptly stopped laughing with a loud, "Ohhhhh."

Harry tugged him inside. It really was impressive that they managed to step inside and not fall flat on their faces. Draco oohed and aahed as he looked around the kitchens.

"Winky," Harry said, looking blearily at a House Elf. "We'd like some dinner please."

"I is not Winky, Mr. Potter sir," The House Elf said, blinking confusedly.

Harry scrunched up his forehead and squinted at him. "Are you sure?"

"Winky is here sir," A voice squeaked and another House Elf appeared at Harry's elbow. "She'll see to it Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy gets some food. Come sit. Sit."

She prodded them towards a small, round table in the corner as Harry murmured absently, looking around a bit dazedly, "There are _so_ many of you."

A few house elves jumped forward and placed tablecloth on the table as Harry and Draco sat. Another house elf jumped onto a stool and placed a candle between them, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Draco stared at it and looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Romantic," Harry said, waggling his eyebrows, and Draco collapsed into laughter against the table, laughing so hard tears appeared in his eyes.

House Elves appeared with plates of food which the placed in front of them. Winky appeared at Harry's elbow again and tugged on his sleeve, holding up a bottle.

"Here you iz, Mr. Harry Potter sir. This'll sobers you up."

Once Harry took the small bottle, she handed another to Draco. Then she stepped back, hands on her hips, and instructed, "Make sure yous drink every drop."

Harry looked across at Draco and they both shrugged, before downing the bottle.

"Taste like grape juice," Harry said, surprised, while Draco made a retching sound, face screwed up in disgust.

"I _hate_ grape juice," Draco muttered, glaring darkly at the bottle as if it had personally wronged him.

"Very good," Winky said with a satisfied nod, taking the empty bottles. "Now eat."

They helped themselves to the massive heap of food. Harry could feel the potion working. He was sobering rapidly, but it did nothing to change his giddy mood. The reason for his laughter and smiles had nothing to do with the firewhiskey. Draco's mood didn't seem to suffer at all either, the blonde just as warm and open as he had been since that third mug of firewhiskey. Harry felt like there was a subtle change between them now, as if he had crossed into a new territory in their relationship. Draco was showing a whole new side to him, one where he smiled beautifully and laughed freely. Harry had told Ron they were friends before, but it wasn't until now he actually felt like they were friends and the feeling was mutual.

Once they were stuffed, they left the kitchens and made their way to the common room. Harry felt like he was in a daze, like any second now he'd look down and realize he was walking on clouds, or quite possibly not walking at all, but _floating_. And for once it was if the universe was quite content to let him float, because they didn't run into any problems on their way to the common room. No Filch ready to rat them out for being late. No Peeves waiting to dump something on them. Even the portrait of the founders didn't give them any problem, opening without any preamble.

As they climbed inside, Draco stumbled. Harry caught him around the waist with a laugh and quipped, "Geez, walk much."

Draco laughed and Harry grinned broadly at the sound, watching the way Draco's face lit up as he laughed. And then, abruptly, reality cut in. Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by his friends and Draco was being pulled off to a corner by Pansy and Blaise, leaving his side feeling colder.

"Where have you been?" Hermione demanded as he walked over to his arm chair and collapsed into it. With Draco gone, he was able to think more clearly, as if a haze had been lifted, but that didn't make his smile diminish, even as he looked into the scowling faces of his friends.

"We were worried sick about you!" Ginny snapped, and Harry noted she was there for the first time, along with Neville.

"Why?" Harry asked, confused.

"Why?" Ron exploded, his voice echoing around the common room. "Because you were with Malfoy!"

From the corner where the Slytherins were huddled, Pansy threw Ron a dark look that he ignored.

"I told you," Harry said impatiently. "He's my friend now. You don't have to be worried."

"You can trust him!" Ron burst out. His mouth kept moving, telling him exactly why, but Harry droned him out as his gaze drifted over to where Draco sat in the corner. Draco looked over then and their eyes met. Draco gave him a small smile which Harry returned dopily, warmth rushing through him. Fingers snapped in front of his face, abruptly snapping him out of it.

"Stop making eyes at Malfoy for two seconds and listen! This is serious!" Hermione snapped.

Harry flushed darkly and began to protest that he wasn't making eyes, but nobody was listening and he realized belatedly he had taken the comment too seriously, causing him to flush darker.

"Look, will all of you just calm down," Harry said finally, cutting off Hermione's tirade of how much trouble he could've got in if Filch caught him late and drunk. "This isn't the first time I've gotten drunk and stayed out passed curfew — we _all_ do that almost every Saturday up until a couple weeks ago. McGonagall doesn't even care, as long as we don't do anything stupid. She practically said as much when she gave all the eighth years that 'we're all adults' speech in the beginning of the year. And you don't have to worry about Draco."

"He's Draco now," Ron hissed.

"Well, that's his name isn't it?" Harry replied, ignoring the fact that although that was his name, it was his first time using it outside of his thoughts. Ron opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off, standing up. "Look, I'm tired, so I'm going to bed — and I don't want to hear another word about what you think of Malfoy. He's my friend now. End of story," Harry tacked on when Ron opened his mouth again.

With that, Harry headed up to his dorm. He kicked off his shoes, collapsed on his bed, and smiled into his pillow as he fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to whatever Winky had given him, Harry had woken up Sunday feeling refreshed and well-rested instead of hungover and miserable like he certainly would've without it. He slept in, went flying with a whole bunch of people after breakfast, and then spent the rest of the day lazing around the common room, playing wizard chess and exploding snap. The day was completely uneventful except for one little tidbit: The realization that maybe he hadn't been in love with Ginny after all, or at least not for a long time. The realization had come suddenly and completely without warning while they were flying. He had been given pointers to the new Gryffindor Seeker, Abigail Tompkins, one minute, and the next he was in a deep discussion with Ginny about the Gryffindor quidditch team this year, which Ginny was the captain of. He had been in the middle of discussing some weaknesses he had noticed in the Gryffindor Chaser, Jackson, when it suddenly dawned on him what he was doing — he was talking to the girl who had dumped him and stomped all over his heart less than a month ago, and he didn't feel a single thing. A second later, the realization had come.

He had been hurt when she dumped him. Extremely hurt. But not heartbroken, he realized. Somebody who had been heartbroken wouldn't be able to talk with the person in question normally. Somebody who had been heartbroken wouldn't be more pissed at the injustice of her moving on while he was off risking his life, than her _actually_ moving on.

Harry had actually allowed himself to think about his and Draco's new friendship as well. Before he had carefully avoided questioning his and Draco's friendship for fear of ruining it. Their relationship was like a loose thread; pick at it too much and the whole thing will unravel. But as he sat in the common room, half-watching Ron destroy Seamus in wizard chess and half-watching Draco over at the Slytherin corner, he couldn't help picking at the thread just a bit.

The ease of which he accepted their friendship surprised even himself, but nowhere near as much as it surprised him that he actually _wanted_ to be friends with Draco. He had gone into his eighth year with the intentions of letting bygones be bygones. Yes, they had a history of doing terrible things to each other, but a lot had happened since. A war had happened. Draco nearly avoiding Azkaban had happened; Harry had been there for his trial, had stood and spoke in both his and his mother's defense. Had even sugarcoated a few things and blatantly lied once or twice to paint Draco in a better light, because no eighteen year old boy should be damned for the rest of their life for making a few bad choices.

But never had Harry dreamed of becoming friends with him. Never had Harry even wanted to be friends with him.

And yet, here they were. Friends. And Draco was rapidly becoming a precious friend at that, not quite at Ron and Hermione's level, but a notable notch higher than the rest of Harry's friends, friends who Harry had, had since first year, and yet didn't get his blood pumping like Draco did. Maybe it was because they had been enemies first, but it was like nothing became good enough between them unless it was taken to the next extreme — He laughed harder than he ever laughed, drank more than he ever normally would, did reckless things he never would've dreamed of before. He even talked _louder_ when he talked to Draco, as if a conversation between them couldn't just be calm and quiet, but had to be broiling over with emotions and served with a side of sass, whether they were angry, happy, excited, amused, or just talking about the weather. They couldn't be just enemies, they had to be nemesis. They couldn't be just friends, they had to be something just short of best friends.

Anything with Draco it seemed, be it friends or enemies, was exhilarating. Only now, their conversations ended with smiles and laughter instead of insults and threats.

It was a change Harry could definitely make peace with, no matter how strange it might be.

Other than that, Sunday was unremarkable. He spoke to Draco only a few times in passing, since Draco had spent the day with the Slytherins and Harry with his Gryffindor friends. Ron had still been a little miffed at him for brushing him off the previous night, but it went away when Harry allowed him to ruthlessly defeat him in wizard chess. He didn't mention Draco again, which Harry was grateful for.

•••

Their first class Monday was Charms. Hermione was practically bouncing in her eagerness to get there. Harry was wishing very much he had feigned sick and stayed in bed. Last class, Professor Flitwick had informed them they'd be pairing up in twos next class and would spend the whole lesson practicing the spell he had taught them about last class. Normally, that was right up Harry's alley, but since he had punched his usual partner in the face for stealing his girlfriend from him, odds weren't looking well for him partner wise.

He did a quick sweep of the room as Flitwick gave them a quick briefing of what they had learned last class, and his heart sank further. Ron was, of course, partnering with Hermione, like they always did since they had started dating. Seamus and Dean were always partners. As the class began partnering up, Harry remained dejectedly in his seat to see who would be left over for him to partner with. He watched as Neville and Ginny partnered. Him and Ginny had never partnered in class, not even when they were dating. They hardly even talked to each other in class — most of the time, Harry even forgot she was there, used to her being a year below him. It occurred to him now that was probably the first clue their relationship had problems.

Ron and Hermione were certainly very much aware of each other _always_.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Draco approach his desk until he spoke.

"Congratulations Potter, today's your lucky day."

"Why's that?" Harry asked, looking at him.

"Goyle's in the Hospital Wing with a cold, meaning I'm partner-less, and I couldn't help, but notice you were in desperate need of a partner.

"You're a life saver," Harry said, relieved.

Draco flashed him an arrogant smile and said, "I try."

They moved to the center of the room with the rest of the partners. Harry's friends were on the right side and Draco's friends were on the left, so Harry led the way to the middle, hoping if they were far enough away from their friends, there wouldn't be any fighting and he wouldn't have to hear _why are you partnering with him?_

The spell they were working on was similar to a false memory charm, except instead of implanting a false memory, it allowed the castor to transfer any image or memory in their mind to the person on the receiving end without erasing other memories or leaving them thinking it was their memory.

"You go first," Harry told Draco, unable to think of a memory or image to transfer.

"You really trust me enough to let me point a wand at you?" Draco asked interestedly.

Harry thought about it for a second. Draco had a fair point here, given their past, and yet, however insane it might be, that didn't change the answer. "Yeah, I do."

Draco's lips twitched and then his gray eyes went skyward as he tried to think of something. After a second, a spark entered his gray eyes and he gave Harry a smirk he really didn't like the looks of. Draco pointed his wand at him and performed the spell.

It felt like cold water had been poured on him, trickling through his body, as a memory that wasn't his suddenly flared up vividly in his mind. Although he was still staring at Draco, all his attention was focused on the new memory in his mind. It was like staring blankly into space when you're deep in thought. Space is still there, you just don't see it. Him and Draco were sitting at a counter, mugs of firewhiskey in front of them. Harry recognized the scene from yesterday. He_ had_ this memory, only his was slightly different.

Things he hadn't paid much attention to stood out now, like the trickle of water running down the glasses of firewhiskey and the patterns in the grain of wood on the counter. The memory smelled different as well. In his memory, he distinctly remembered citrus and vanilla. But now, he smelled fresh air, the outdoors, and mint toothpaste. It took him a second to realize he was smelling himself. He looked different in this memory as well — he hadn't realized how much the cold November wind had messed up his already naturally messy hair, and his eyes looked brighter, greener than he ever remembered seeing them, but that wasn't it. It was hard to explain without sounding embarrassingly vain, but he looked _good_. It was still him, still all the same features, but it was if he was being painted in a flattering light that somehow warped his flaws into compliments.

The focus of the memory shifted off him, moving behind him to where a group of girls sat a short distance away at a table. They were giggling among each other and kept throwing appreciative glances at his back. Harry felt his face and ears go hot as he realized they were checking him out, blatantlyso. He hadn't even noticed they were there.

As quick as it had come, the memory was gone, fading into his own memories and leaving the forefront of his mind. He blinked and a smirking Draco came back into focus in front of him.

"I figured you didn't notice that," Draco drawled. "You're so oblivious Potter, it physically pains me."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked.

He raised his wand and with a flick of his wrist, he turned the tables, sending a memory to Draco. It was from yesterday, during the time Harry had been shifting his attention from Ron playing Seamus in wizard chess and Draco. Harry had caught sight of Draco bending over to pick up something he had dropped and, he noticed a split second later, so had Terry Boot, who had stopped mid-step on his way across the common room to openly check out Draco's arse — until he noticed Harry's gaze on him and he quickly hurried away.

Harry lifted the spell and Draco blinked back to focus.

"Bet you didn't notice that," Harry said with a smirk

"I take it you don't like Boot very much," Draco commented wryly.

"Why?"

"You were glaring at him pretty hard," Draco said, looking amused. "You certainly scared _him_."

Harry felt his face go hot and he said stiffly, "I just don't think it's very polite to check out people against their knowledge."

Oh god, that sounded so much worse out loud.

Draco laughed. "So you were protecting my virtue?"

"Shut it," Harry muttered, but he smiled grudgingly. It was hard not so smile when Draco laughed.

"Well, I should thank you," Draco said. "I'm pretty sure you scared Boot so bad I don't have to worry about him hinting we should go out anymore."

"Anymore?" Harry repeated. "He's hinted before?"

That... bothered Harry for some reason.

"He's rather persistent," Draco said. "Not that I blame him. In case you haven't noticed Potter, I'm gorgeous — "

"And so modest."

" — I didn't even realize how good I looked that day. I looked amazing, better than usual and that's saying something," Draco continued, ignoring his comment. "Too bad for Boot he isn't my type of guy."

Draco went very still after the words left him. Time seemed to slow. Harry stared at him.

"Are you...?" Harry began hesitantly.

"Gay?" Draco asked, his voice cold. His expression hardened into an icy reminiscence of his past demeanor. For the first time it occurred to Harry that cold, sneering expression Draco had worn so many times in the past might've been the blonde's defense. "Yes, Potter. Problem?"

"You already know I don't," Harry said quietly, remembering their conversation about Seamus and Dean.

Draco's expression wavered and then it softened slightly. He allowed Harry a small smile that was too forced and anxious looking to be genuine.

"Right," Draco said, clearing his throat. "It's my turn."

It took Harry a second to realize what he meant. He had forgotten they were in the middle of a lesson — a lesson full of students, any of which could probably overhear their conversation if they wanted to. Harry forced himself to return his attention to the lesson, pushing this new information back to his mind and not allowing himself to think about it. But even as he pushed the thoughts away, he couldn't help, but feel he had lied. He certainly didn't have a problem with gay people, but the thought of Draco being gay made him feel uneasy and suddenly far too aware of the blonde. It made him remember those odd smiles Hermione had given him at breakfast Saturday, or her comment accusing him of making eyes at Draco Saturday night. In that second, Draco shifted in his eyes from just a friend to something else, something that left him feeling intensely confused and uncomfortable in his own skin.

But he threw himself back into the lesson, not letting himself dwell on it. He traded memories with Draco, laughing easily and honestly when they began trading embarrassing memories of each other, each memory an attempt to up the last. By the time the lesson was over, he had laughed so much his stomach hurt.

Later though, when Harry was sitting in the common room alone, the thoughts he had pushed away returned full force. Ron and Hermione were off 'studying' and Draco and his group of Slytherins were off doing who knows what. Harry was alone with nothing to distract him from his thoughts so he gave up trying to avoid them — all of them. He allowed himself to question why he noticed things about guys that he knew Ron didn't. He had made the mistake once of mentioning to Ron in the past how he liked how guy's shoulders were broader. Ron had looked mildly uncomfortable by the observance and had muttered, "I don't know mate, I don't really look at guys like that."

But he liked girls. He knew he liked girls, and that's what confused him. He liked their soft skin and their perfume. He liked their curves and the way they felt in his arms, breast pressed against his chest. He particularly liked girls who were shorter than him, like Ginny, since they tucked perfectly against his body, as if they were fitted to be together.

So he ignored things he noticed about guys.

Now, he allowed himself to think about holding a guy and, for the sake of the thought, he allowed it to be Draco. It would be all flat planes and sharp hipbones holding Draco, and Draco was taller than him, just a couple inches, but enough that Harry would have to angle his head up to kiss him, not down like he was used to when kissing. He liked Ginny's curves and her breast and her slightly pouty lips, but he also liked Draco's narrow waist and his jutting collarbone and his long, thin fingers and his slightly pointed facial features.

And he was right back to being confused.

The sound of the portrait opening earned his attention and he looked up to see Dean climb inside. Dean who had dated Ginny and yet was clearly smitten with Seamus right now.

"Dean," Harry called out, earning his attention. Dean headed over to him with a warm smile.

"What's up, Harry?" He asked as he dropped onto the couch next to Harry's armchair.

Harry stalled, having no idea how to word any of what he was thinking out loud. He was already regretting his rash decision to call Dean over. He hesitated for a moment, before he resolved himself. He needed to figure this out and Dean was the best person to ask about it.

"Can we talk somewhere more private?"

Dean looked surprised, but he agreed readily enough. They headed up to the dorms. Dean took a seat on his bed as Harry paced the room, trying to figure out how to say it.

"Is this about Draco?" Dean asked after a few moments. Harry blinked, stilling mid-step.

"How did you...?"

"Well, I kind of got the impression you might be interested in him and since I'm the only person who's bi, I just kind of thought," Dean said with a smile and a half-shrug.

"Bi?" Harry repeated, brow furrowing.

"Bisexual."

Harry looked at him blankly. He knew heterosexual and he knew homosexual. He did not know bisexual.

"Harry, you _do_ know what that means, don't you?" Dean asked slowly.

"No. Should I?"

Dean looked at him incredulously, his surprise at Harry not knowing almost insulting — if it had been coming from anybody, but Dean it would've been.

"I guess it makes since," Dean said after a moment, but his tone implied he was having a hard time wrapping his head around it.

"What does?" Harry asked, feeling increasingly stupider with every passing second.

"Well, I doubt you and your aunt and uncle had any deep conversations about sexuality," Dean said. He, like all of Harry's friends, knew Harry didn't get on with the Dursleys. "And you don't really know any bisexual people, except for me, but it's not like I'm wearing a sign, you know? I guess it makes sense you don't know."

"Don't know what?" Harry asked a bit testily. He was really getting fed up with being told he didn't know _something_ and not just what it was he didn't know.

"Sit," Dean instructed him, pointing to the bed.

Harry took a seat across from him and waited expectantly.

"Harry, a person can be attracted to both girls_ and_ guys," Dean told him. "You can like one gender a bit more than another, or like them both the same. You can like girls that look like guys or guys that look like girls. Some people care only about personality, not gender, and the attraction doesn't come until after they've established an emotional connection. Some people don't feel sexual attraction at all, only emotional. Honestly, you can like _anything_, really, and they'll be a name out there somewhere for it."

Dean's voice was warm and genuinely helpful, not at all condescending. It helped lesson initial reaction of_ how could I be so stupid_. A little.

"The most important thing, I think, is to realize what you like and to accept it. Don't worry about putting labels on it or having to justify it."

Harry swallowed. "So then, I can...?"

"Be attracted to both Ginny and Draco, yes."

"And you are...?"

"I like both," Dean said simply. "I was mad about Ginny before and now I'm mad about Seamus. Don't tell him I said that though."

"So you two really aren't dating?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Not yet," Dean sad. "You know how Ron and Hermione skirted around their feelings for each for like seven years? It's kind of like that. Being best friends, there's a lot on the line if we try and things end badly, and I think that terrifies Seamus. It terrifies me too, only I'm not so convinced it won't end well."

"For the record, I think you two would make a great couple," Harry offered. Dean grinned broadly at that.

"Are you okay now? Do you have anymore questions or do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm... good. I just need time to … absorb it all."

"Then, I'll leave you to think about it. If you need me, I'll be in the common room," Dean said, standing up.

"Dean," Harry called out just before he left. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

As the door closed behind Dean, Harry fell back onto the bed and thought over everything. He still felt stupid for not making the connection himself. Whether he knew the term or not, he should _know_ when he's attracted to both girls and guys, but, the more the thought about it, the more he realized he did know, on some level. He had practically just admitted as much to himself ten minutes ago. It was hard to put into words what he felt right now or what was going through his mind, but one thing he did know, he felt like a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders, a little chink of the never-ending _who am I _question fitting smoothly into place.

•••

Dean headed back to the common room and nearly ran straight into Seamus, who was just about to head upstairs.

"There you are!" Seamus said when he saw him. "I was looking for you."

Dean smiled at him, eyes glowing. He remembered what Harry had said, he smiled even wider. "What's up?"

Seamus blinked a few times, looking dazed, then he shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, before he said, "I've got a new bet going and I wanted to know if you want in."

"What's the bet?"

"About Malfoy and Harry's new friendship and how it will end. My moneys on a duel to the death."

"How much did you put on it?"

"Ten galleons."

"In that case, I bet ten galleons it ends in romance," Dean said, before he walked passed Seamus.

Seamus made a gagging sound and called after him, "You never take my bets seriously!"

Dean just laughed.

* * *

Harry now knows he likes guys. Draco is a guy. The ball is in motion. We'll see what happens next ;)


End file.
